Barefoot Poetry

SS Matthews

Remembering Emeraude

1 Comment

Her scent came upon me unaware,
on a wind from a place called high school.
Memories I’d forgotten I’d had,
returned, and man, were we cool.

Mike and I were brothers then
though we bore no blood relation.
The Rock-and-Roll we shouted out
was the language of our nation.

Hendrix wove a purple haze
into a national anthem.
Janice dragged her ball and chain
our hearts, or pieces of them.

Afternoons were roughly spent
in playing dirt lot football.
Until the day that girl appeared
and caused my heart to tumble.

Her eyes were sending kisses
on a teasing summer breeze.
Her scented smile was Emeraude,
and stole the breath from me.

Mike and games fell back a step,
for she had some books to carry.
I wiped my hands against my shirt,
she said “Hello. I’m Mary”.

I walked her to her house that day
and many more to follow.
Her parents didn’t seem to mind
this poor, but handsome fellow.

Each moment we beheld, we grasped
and wrung it dry of passion.
Sometimes, still, I hear her voice
return in dreamlike fashion.

Though clouds compile as darkener years
and gather now as pain,
I long to feel those fire tears
we spent in love,
in lust
and lost
one school day in the rain.

SS Matthews 2001

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Author: SSMatthews

Author of The Moon and Rowan Wolfe and Wolfe's Banes.

One thought on “Remembering Emeraude

  1. Gosh, I wish I would have had that intaimofron earlier!

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